All I Need
by TealEyed-Quatre
Summary: Quatre is absorbed in his work, separated from the other pilots physically, mentally, and emotionally. He's yet to get over a serious case of unrequited love and is suffering immensely. He needs help to make it through... YAOI. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Many of you may know my other account, which I share with my sister Duo. That account is "Duo and Quatre". I decided that I needed a little more independence and revamped my old profile to fit my new interests. This is my latest and what I believe to be my best. I'd prefer if no one plagiarized my work. If you'd like to use anything from this or my other pieces, please contact me and I'll be happy to work with you.

Feedback is appreciated.

Warnings: Angst, self-harm, suicide attempts, yaoi, flashbacks, clinical depression.

Chapter One

I think everyone expected Heero or Duo, maybe even Trowa, to disappear after the war, go off alone. But certainly not me.

Sure, everyone had issues to deal with. Who wouldn't, after what we went through? Duo's were probably the worst. He didn't have any love for himself. In the end, though he had Heero.

I had watched from the background as they fell in love with each other, and had helped push them together. They had held each other during the war, and they clung together afterwards. Heero and WuFei had joined the Preventors, Trowa went back to Cathy and the Circus, Duo became an artist, and me… I went back to L4 with the Maguanac Corps. and a few of my sisters.

The other four had stayed in close contact, getting together often and hanging out. I kept touch at first, through email and phone calls, but never had time to visit. So I drifted away, still the one watching from a distance. They were perfectly happy without me.

I still sent the Christmas and birthday presents, things like that. I never asked for anything in return, though I received a few of Duo's paintings over the years.

As time passed, I grew more and more depressed. I ate less and spent more time in my office, working through meals and late into the night.

It was one such night that I found my father's alcohol cabinet.

Gundam_Wing

It was probably three in the morning, judging by the light coming in the window. I let loose a jaw-popping yawn and stretched, my body ready for sleep. However, I though sardonically, it didn't look like my mind was going to rest.

So I got up and headed out of my office. Some of the papers I needed were still in my father's desk from before he died. His office was just down the hall, characterized by a heavy, stained oak door. I stopped in front of it and pulled the key from my pocket.

The lock was fashioned in the ways of Before Colony Earth, and I inserted the ornate brass key into the lock and turned, hoping it was in the right direction. A loud clunking sound echoed through the empty hall and I placed one hand on the matching brass knob and turned it slowly.

Slipping inside, I walked quickly to the enormous desk in the center of the room. I didn't want to stay here long… Memories pressed in around me; thickening the air with thoughts of a man I had both hated and loved for a long, long time.

Some of the drawers on the sides were used like filing cabinets, and I had to search two before finally finding what I had come for. I glanced around the room as I shoved the other drawers closed.

A muffled bang echoed through the room just as a small wooden cabinet caught my eye. I flinched and whirled towards the door, reaching for a gun I no longer carried, only to realize that the sound was that of the drawers closing. My exhaustion was bringing back old war habits along with forgetfulness, and it was a potentially deadly combination.

With a sigh, I refocused my attention on the small cabinet. It was carefully carved, with wrought iron handles and polished doors. I grasped one tentatively and pulled it open.

I almost fell back in shock, blinking to make sure I wasn't just seeing things. The cabinet was completely full with glass bottles of every color and size. Each bottle had a different label, proclaiming what must have been almost every type of alcohol known to man. Vodka, tequila, wine; all different brands and qualities.

I remembered something that Duo had said back during the war. 'I drank a lot, in the beginning. It helped me to **forget**.'

That was the word that struck me: forget. That was exactly what I wanted. Biting my lip, I quickly grabbed the first bottle my fingers touched and shoved the door closed. The papers in my left hand were joined by the bottle as I left Father's office and locked the door.

I slipped back down the hall and deposited the papers on my desk, then left, locking that door as well. From there I moved to my small bedroom. This door locked from the inside, and no one had the codes besides myself.

With a heavy sigh, I turned on the floor lamp beside the door. The walls and ceiling were painted black, with multitudes of glow-in-the-dark stars scattered about. The wall opposite the door held a twin bed with five large pillows and two forest-green comforters.

Don't give me that look. I am perfectly aware of the fact that I never got over him… I look at the evidence of that fact in the mirror every day.

Bookshelves covered every other wall, separating only for the bathroom door. The closet was attached to the bathroom itself.

I sighed again, though this one was tinged with relief. This place was the only sanctuary I had left, and I was happy to be back within its confines. The bottle, which turned out to be vodka, was set on the floor next to the bed as I began to undress.

My clothes were tossed into a laundry basket to be washed and my shoes placed on the closet floor. I splashed some cold water on my face before glancing at myself in the mirror. Was I really going to do this? One look at the darkly-bruised circles under my eyes solidified my decision.

Gundam_Wing

I woke the next day with hammers pounding my skull and the intense urge to vomit dominating my thoughts. I pushed myself shakily to my feet and staggered to the bathroom where I collapsed in front of the toilet. I emptied the entire contents of my stomach and then some, dry-heaving for what seemed like hours.

My shirt stuck to my skin with dried sweat and my hair was stiff with it. I reluctantly left my post in front of my new friend to gather the necessary articles of clothing for a shower.

Other than the stale air and the empty bottle, my room was no worse for the wear. I observed this with the relief of a person exhausted and bone-weary; with no more strength for the rituals of daily life. Hopefully the shower would wake me up enough to finish cleaning and get to my office.

It was now clear to me that alcohol wasn't a solution. I could still feel that core-deep pain and the bite of loneliness. I was tired enough that my mental shields came crashing down as soon as I stepped back into the bathroom.

I was suddenly hit with the emotions of hundreds of people. They came flooding in all at once, suffocating my mind. I wanted desperately to scream but was only able to gasp, panting for air. Agony seared hot and heavy in my chest as I clawed at it, anything to stop it, even slow it down. I wanted it to end; it felt like I was dying!

It continued for some undeterminable length of time before I was able to put my shields back up. Then I just lay where I had fallen, too fatigued and weak to move.

Gundam_Wing

I had eventually managed to get showered and to my office to work. A few weeks passed with no improvement. I had no way to forget, to ease the pain that had settled in my soul. I knew that my weary body wouldn't be able to take much more strain. I felt disconnected; it was somewhat akin to watching through someone else's eyes as they went through life.

It was on a late Saturday night that I thought I had finally found the answer.

I was sitting on the toilet with the lid down and looking at my wrists. There was maybe a dozen or so scars altoghether, with most on my left. Four of them were suicide attempts.

The first attempt had left jagged lines on the underside of each wrist. That had been at the beginning of the war, just after I had been forced into a hostage situation and lost. Though technically the battle was a victory, it was a loss to me. All the hostages had died.

The second was after that disastrous incident with the ZERO system, when I couldn't find Trowa. The guilt had been just too much to bear.

The rest… came from bouts of depression scattered throughout the end of the war.

As I ran my fingertips over the pale, raised tissue, I became aware of a burning need beginning in my veins. I needed my blades; to feel the mind-numbing pain and see my own blood staining the floor the way others' stained my hands.

I got up off the toilet and crouched in front of the sink. In the bottom drawer there was a small, unopened package of razors. I'd never had to use them, since whatever Instructor H had done to me prevented the growth of facial hair. For that, at least, I was grateful.

I retrieved the razors now, carefully unwrapping one and sitting on the edge of the bathtub with it in my right hand. I stared at it for a moment, wondering what I thought I was doing. If Duo were here…

I shook that thought off. Duo wasn't here, and he never would be. With renewed determination, I set the blade against the inside of my left arm, just above the other scars.

Slowly, I put pressure on the blade, increasing until it broke the skin. Calm descended on me as I watched my blood well up and slide over my skin to land in fat red drops on the white laminate.

I moved the blade and pressed it in again, and again. It had been too long since I had done this last; I had forgotten the release it brought me. With a sigh of contentment, I pulled it away and moved to the sink. Blood dripped on the floor as I moved in a haze of pain-induced tranquility.

It seemed as though I blinked and found myself sitting on the edge of my bed. My arm was clean and bandaged and I was dressed for sleep. I looked around the room warily, but the door was still locked. I relaxed then, and crawled into my nest of pillows, dragging both comforters up over my battered body. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's the second chappie! I actually began writing this fic about this time last year, and I'm revamping it as I go. Hope you guys like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except some paper, pencils, books… and my boundless imagination.

Warnings: See chapter one. *****This chapter has cutting and the beginnings of a suicide attempt.

To my reviewers: Solveig Eleaz, hyperemoninja, and BigSister2:

Thank you so much! I'm glad you guys like it. I'm working very hard and making sure to do my research in order to make it as accurate as possible. Also, I am writing this as a parallel to my own emotions, which I hope makes it more realistic. I have plenty written, I just need the time to type it all up, so keep an eye out! Love and hugs for all of you,

Quatre

Chapter Two

Gundam_Wing

This became a ritual for me. Every night I worked late and retreated to my room near midnight. From there, I took my blades out and cut three or four times before collapsing in bed.

Eventually I had to start cutting my right arm, then my thighs. Soon my limbs were riddled with thin, ropey scars. They ranged from angry red to white, nearly blending with my own pale skin tone. I was quickly running out of places to cut.

It was mind-numbing. I moved through life on autopilot, eating and sleeping out of habit. I lost weight, my clothes were becoming looser and I'd put extra holes in my belt. My hair curled loosely around my shoulders, clean and combed but quickly becoming brittle with ill-care.

I knew that Rasid and the others were growing worried, but I didn't care. Nothing could fill the empty space inside my heart. And by Allah, how I had tried. But it was still there, and what I wanted to fill it with was forever beyond my reach. This, I was fully convinced of.

By this point, months had passed since the incident with the alcohol cabinet. Though I'm not sure of the date, I think it was nearing Christmas. I was vaguely aware of the preparations going on around me, and realized that I hadn't been included at all this year.

Every year I had been involved in some way, no matter how small. I was struck by how little I seemed to be needed. Sure, I was head of the company, but I had quite a few sisters who were willing and qualified enough for that task.

This epiphany set wheels turning in my mind. I took note of the date and asked my secretary (a kind, motherly woman Rasid had hired) to call my lawyer and set a date for creating my will. And I wrote it all down: my music to Duo; books to WuFei. Word by word I designated each possession I owned to someone else. Almost all went to the guys, though a few photo albums and a lot of money were set aside for the Maguanacs. The company I willed to my twenty-seventh sister older sister, Leisha. She was thirty-nine and had a keen business sense. I trusted her to keep our father's legacy running smoothly.

The last thing I did was to write a letter to Duo. It was a lengthy, detailed thing, full of pain and heartbreak. I begged him to understand what I was about to do. Every emotion I was physically unable to express poured itself onto those sheets of paper. I carefully sealed it away and addressed it with a note that it was to be delivered upon my death.

These tasks completed, I felt an odd sense of peace come over me. I was ready to die. I was more aware, now, of what I did each day. I made sure to smile and thank the staff and act like I had before. I wanted to alleviate all suspicions and concerns for my well-being; it wouldn't do for someone to stop me. Everything I needed what just a few steps ahead of me and all I needed to do was reach out and grab it.

For the most part, I think it worked. After a few days of puzzled reactions, they began to smile back, happy to see me "normal" again. None of them knew me well enough to look beyond that smile. Well… none except for Rasid. At first, he seemed overjoyed at my seeming recovery, but soon grew worried.

When I realized this, I panicked. I couldn't let him find out. The act increased tenfold, and to me it looked like he was satisfied. Little did I know that I had only confirmed his suspicions.

Gundam_Wing

I told my staff on the twenty-third of December to go home to their families until after New Years'. They deserved the time off and not only was it my gift to them; it would keep them from interfering with my plans.

I then retreated to the study to put my paperwork in order. The Maguanacs had left as well, so I set out the file with my will and the letter to Duo, as well as the documents that Liesha would need to start as head of the company. I left my office locked, though I set the key on my secretary's desk.

I slept a few hours and woke on Christmas Eve, at about three in the morning, too giddy with anticipation to rest any longer. I wasted the next sixteen hours cleaning and organizing my bedroom. All my belongings were artfully placed into boxes labeled by recipient and my bed made.

My door was locked and I turned out all the lights, setting candles around the edge of the bathtub. That was where I planned to spend my last moments. This way, there was much less mess to clean up, which meant less hassle for the others. I had always prided myself for my strategic mind, and this seemed an appropriate final use for it.

I waited until just before midnight and stripped to my boxers. I folded my clothes neatly and placed them on the toilet lid, out of the way. That sense of peace stole over me again as I knelt in the tub, razor in hand. I was finally going to be free of the empty, hollow pain that had consumed so much of my life. The world would no longer be burdened by my lonely soul.

A/N: I'm sorry it's so short, but it's going on two-thirty in the morning and I can't type any more, I'm so exhausted. I promise that the next chapter will be much more fulfilling. Lemme know what you think! -Quatre


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Quatre here! I promised last chapter that this would be out tonight, and here it is! I'm warning you now: this chapter has a graphic suicide… or a suicide attempt, you'll just have to wait and see.

xXDancerintheDarkXx: Darling, you've already read it, so don't complain! We'll get there soon enough…

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 3

I carefully laid open the vein in my left arm, beginning at the elbow and moving down, a centimeter at a time. Bright crimson blood poured out of the wound, staining my skin and everything around me a vivid scarlet. It felt hot, burning as it left my body, each drop bringing me one step closer to what I wanted most.

I paused about halfway down my arm to admire the sight. I was already beginning to feel woozy and light-headed, so I needed to finish this quickly… I placed the razor where I had left off and prepared to apply pressure.

Then, suddenly, the door flew open with a loud bang that resounded off the walls. Duo came flying in and skidded to a stop next to the bathtub. His eyes filled with tears as they moved from my face to my arm to the razor and back.

He lunged towards me as I stared, frozen in shock. The razor was yanked from my tense fingers and it clattered loudly on the floor tiles. The sound brought me back to reality in an instant.

"NO!!" I screamed, thrashing wildly. "Let me DIE!!!" I clawed at Duo's arms, reaching desperately for the razor lying only a few feet away. I yelped when my frantic movements pulled at the wound in my arm and it began to bleed faster.

"Quatre, stop! I won't let you kill yourself, I can't!" Duo grabbed my arm and began tearing strips from his shirt, tying a tourniquet above my elbow. "You're my best friend; I don't know what I'd do if you died!"

Everything came crashing down all at once. The pleasant numbness was gone, replaced with a million kinds of pain and emptiness. A strangled sob escaped my tense body and I collapsed onto him.

The world shrunk to a pinprick of light as I wept uncontrollably. My heart tried to beat its way out of my chest and I clawed at it with one hand; anything to make the pain stop, to regain that separation from my emotions.

Eventually, I recognized the weight of someone's head on top of my own through the fog of pain filtering my vision. Strong, lean arms cradled my small form against a firm chest and one hand was buried in my tangled hair. I protested weakly, trying to get away from whoever was touching me. Why wasn't I dead yet?

The head lifted and a familiar braid fell against my cheek. "Duo…" His tears dripped onto my upturned face, anguish in his purple eyes and his mouth twisted into a grotesque expression of grief.

"Why did you stop me? I don't understand."

A harsh, sobbing gasp muffled in my hair and his arms tightened convulsively about my chest and shoulders.

"Oh, Quatre…" Duo lifted his head again and took a hold of my chin. "Do you not know how much we love you? We may not express it much, but you are very important. You are the glue that holds us together…" Tears ran freely down his cheeks and I lifted my hand to touch the in quiet amazement. I'd never seen him cry before.

He let go of me to scrub furiously at his eyes. "Quatre! Just listen to me!"

I flinched away. Why couldn't he just go away and let me die like I planned? It wasn't too late, and the razor was right there… My gaze drifted to it and I let all my attention focus there. Everything else faded into white noise as the instrument of my release loomed, consuming, in my mind.

At least, it did until Duo grabbed my shoulders and shook me, hard. "STOP IT!!!" he yelled. "This isn't right!" He was sobbing again, his whole body trembling.

"You were the best of us! What happened to the Quatre I knew during the war?!"

I looked him straight in the eyes and he sucked in a breath.

"He died a long, long time ago." Pain filled Duo's eyes again and it pressed on my heart, begging me to help ease it, but I shoved it away ruthlessly. I wanted the numbness back.

"You're too late, Duo. I'm already dead; just let me go."

"NO!!!" He lunged forwards again, braid snapping, pulling something from his pocket as he moved.

I just barely registered the feel of a needle plunging into my vein before darkness descended. My last conscious thought was that I had miscalculated, and it would need to be corrected.

Gundam_Wing

A/N: Dun-dun-dun… A cliffie. Hope you liked it! I'm planning the next chapter release for tomorrow… But I have relatives coming over so I don't know how much of a reality that is.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here's chapter four! My relatives are late in arriving, so I'm taking advantage of the lull to do some work. I'm glad that everyone is responding so well; at least this way I know my friends aren't lying about it. *laughs* Quatre has a lot more pain to go through on the road to recovery- it's not always, "Take some drugs and everything's better."

Thanks to: BigSister2 and triolet. I appreciate you guys sticking with me.

Chapter Four

I gradually became aware of a slow, steady beeping noise. It cut through my muddled brain, forcing me to wake and figure out how to shut it up.

The beeping grew in speed as I became more aware of my surroundings, wrinkling my nose at the smell of disinfectant. _A hospital? _Everything came rushing back to me in a flood of confusing memories, and I grew first angry, then confused, and finally just more depressed. They didn't understand me or what I felt.

It unnerved me that I didn't know the date, time, or even whether I was on Earth or a colony. As far as I could remember, my memory had never been this bad, and I did **not** like it. I felt vulnerable and exposed, emotionally as well as physically.

Calmly, I took in what I could from a lying position, gauging the security and what it would take to escape, which I fully intended to do.

A small security camera blinked from just above the door, recording my movements. There didn't appear to be anything breakable- or potentially dangerous- in the room besides the machines monitoring my vitals, which also happened to be the source of the incessant beeping. I could see a set of speakers on the nightstand… They might work as a bludgeon. My wrists and ankles were held down with leather straps. I tested them, and it quickly became obvious that I was too weak to even think about breaking free. The presence of drugs in my system was confirmed by the pleasant lack of feeling in my left arm.

With a heavy sigh, I lay back and relaxed my muscles. I sank deeper into my mind, not sleeping but not awake, either. The cold, dark despair that ruled my life settled around me like a cloak. Under its influence, my pain grew exponentially, swallowing everything remotely joyful in my conscious thoughts.

My eyes stared, unseeing, at the pristine white ceiling as time passed. I eventually became aware that the light coming from the door was growing dimmer. Shadows passed it intermittently, but I recognized no pattern.

Just before dusk, as a grey twilight stole over the halls, one of the shadows stopped in front of the door. The knob turned silently and Duo stepped into the room and latched it behind him just as quietly.

There were dark rings under his eyes and a grim frown graced his fine features. Wisps of unruly chestnut hair framed his heart-shaped face and escaped his long braid. He set a small paper bag on the nightstand with a sigh, appearing to fold in on himself and grow smaller, slighter.

I watched, uninterested, as he withdrew a silver music player from the bag and hooked it to the speakers. He fiddled with it for a moment before the sound of flute music flooded the room. It echoed off the walls, coming at me from every angle.

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to block it out. I tried with all my willpower to ignore the pain it brought my heart, only to no avail. My entire body began to shake as tears streamed down my face.

It was then that Duo turned to look at me. I absently noted the widening of his amethyst eyes and the swiftness with which he yanked a chair to my bedside. His hand was hesitant as he reached out to brush the tears from my cheeks.

"You know, Trowa made this for you." I couldn't move my eyes from his wistful expression as he spoke. "He was planning to send it to Rasid, but I offered to deliver it when I was asked to come and talk to you."

He sighed again, more weary then before, and rubbed at his temples. "Why…" Duo's voice broke, and he cleared his throat to try again. "Why would you do something like this? I know that we've lost contact recently, but that's not a reason to kill yourself!"

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. The depression was pressing in around me again, as if daring me to deny its role in this mess. If things had gone as I planned them, I would already be gone…

I shoved that thought away. The time for that had come and gone. What I now needed to decide was if I would try again, or admit- to myself and to Duo- that I needed help.

My hand was trembling violently as I clenched my fist. He looked at me, unreadable but for the pain in his eyes, and placed his own hand over mine, as if to hold it still.

Tears welled up in my eyes again and I blinked furiously, wanting to be rid of them. "Duo… I…" I swallowed again, terrified. "I don't know what to do!" I wailed suddenly, making him flinch.

"About what, Quatre?" His voice was genuinely puzzled, as was his face.

I took a deep, deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate. I had never spoken of my emotions with anyone before, believing it my duty to help others with theirs and not burden them with my own. The things I was about to reveal would change not only my own life, but Duo's forever. Did I really dare risk him for my own sake?

The answer that I found within myself terrified me even more: Yes, I could. If I was hurting him now, without saying anything, how would he feel when I finished speaking?

Finally, I decided. He deserved the truth, and I knew it. I also knew that his would hurt me just as much as it would hurt him, but I would do it anyways. What was a little more pain to someone like me, who suffered through each day?

My right hand clenched the sheets to the point of tearing as my left convulsed involuntarily. One more deep breath and I would begin. I took it in and held it a moment, preparing myself as best I could.

I focused my eyes on the wall just to the left of Duo's head, and began.

"I never talked to anyone about my own feelings during the war. I believed, as I had been taught, that my empathy had been given to me so that I could help others deal with their emotions. This in turn, told me to trouble anyone else with my problems…"

Gundam_Wing

A/N: There we go! I'm hoping to finish chapter five tonight as well, but that's subject to change. Hope you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Chapter Five, finally. My relatives went home (along with the little kids I had to watch), so I should definitely have more time to type now. BigSister2, thanks for reviewing. I hope that everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving!

From here on out, my writing style had begun to change, for the better, I think. I may go back and re-write these chapters in the future, so that they match the newer parts of the story. I'm issuing a blanket apology now for any confusion it might cause.

Enjoy!

Chapter Five

When I finally finished speaking, we both were in tears. Duo seated himself on the bed and unbuckled the restraints before pulling me sideways onto his lap. I pressed my face into his chest, muffling my heavy sobs just as his own tears soaked into my hair.

It eventually tapered off and we just sat together, reveling in the healing that was taking place. Time seemed to stand still; it could have been hours that we stayed like that for all I knew.

I pushed myself up off of his chest so that I could look into his face. His eyes were dark with emotions that seemed to reflect my own. Somewhere, deep in a hidden corner of my broken mind, I knew that this was a step forward. However, the rest of me just wanted reassurance. Would he have them lock me up in a mental hospital like I deserved, or would he ship me off to be cared for by the Maguanacs and go back to his happy life?

The answer he gave me was neither of the options I had tried to prepare myself for.

Duo grasped my shoulders with both of his hands and forced me to look him in the eye. My whole body began to tremble and silent tears traced hot paths down my cheeks.

"Quatre," he said vehemently, "Quatre, I love you. We all love you. I am NOT going to abandon you or shove you into a crazy bin. We are going to get you a counselor and onto some medication, and then you are coming to live with me and Heero." I immediately began to protest, but he slapped a hand over my mouth. "No arguing. You aren't going to be left alone to deal with this, and you aren't going back to work." He lifted his hand and grinned at me.

"We have a guest room in our apartment and you're family. You need help to get better, Quatre, and I'm offering that. You don't have a choice."

His other hand finally left my shoulder and I threw myself at him, once again reduced to incoherent songs. The ache in my heart eased just a bit, and I knew that things were going to be very different from here on out.

Gundam_Wing

The first thing Duo did was call for a psychiatric evaluation. As nervous as I was, I knew that it was necessary for me to recover. The psychologist came to the hospital room and kicked Duo out, taking his chair next to my bed. I picked nervously at the uncovered scabs on my arms, wanting to get this over with quickly. It wasn't going to end well, and I knew it.

He was an older gentleman with a stern jaw line and graying black hair. His brown eyes were intelligent, smiling crow's feet at the corners. He watched me silently for a minute, taking in my anxious fidgeting and darkening mood.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and non-confrontational.

"May I call you Quatre?"

My head jerked up at the unexpected question, nearly giving me whiplash. "Wh-what?"

"May I call you by your given name, Mr. Winner?"

I nodded, completely shaken. Why was he being so kind? Why would he be kind when dealing with someone like me? I was useless and unneeded, obsolete and outdated.

He cleared his throat minutely and the sound yanked me from my scattered thoughts. I flinched.

"My name is Doctor Adrian Wood, but you can call me Adrian. The first thing I would like you to do is fill out this test. It is called the Beck Depression Inventory II…"

Gundam_Wing

A/N: There's chapter five. I apologize for the abhorrently short length; I hope to make future chapters longer. Please review with questions and comments!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I LIVE!!!! No, really! I sincerely apologize for the long lack of updating. School and relationship issues have effectively forced my work into the background, which I regret. Hopefully it'll slow down a little and give me some air, but don't take my word for it.

Warnings: Angst, emotional distress, Quatre's disjointed thought processes. He suffers a major mental disorder and he's been drugged up in a crazy house. He deserves to act a little off-kilter.

Chapter Six

The session moved on from there. About an hour later, Dr. Wood set aside his clipboard and looked at me carefully.

"I have reached a diagnosis. Would you like Mr. Maxwell here for this?"

I nodded tightly in confirmation, scrubbing furiously at my watering eyes. He stood and strode across the room to the door, opening it and saying something softly. Dip was inside and next to me before Dr. Wood had the chance to sit back down.

Duo plopped down on the bed and threw an arm around my shoulders, drawing me in against his side protectively. His other hand caught his long braid and pulled it over his shoulder to fiddle with the tie. I let myself lean on him, mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted.

"Alright," Dr. Wood said, shuffling through his papers. "Quatre has all the symptoms of Major Depressive Disorder. His suicidal tendencies have developed over a long period of time, likely exasperated by the end of the war and events occurring therein. I'm prescribing 20 milligram doses of Celexa©. Take it once daily and contact me in two weeks. Also, don't hesitate to call if there are any side effects. I can set up therapy sessions for twice a week to begin with. We can change that, if needed, further down the road.

"What days are good for your schedule, Mr. Maxwell? I have free space on Tuesdays at six, Wednesdays at six and seven, and Thursdays at five."

I tuned them out after that, snuggling into Duo and enjoying the human contact. I trusted him to work out what he believed was best for me. I began to doze off as they discussed times, dates, and payments, drifting into an uneasy, disturbed sleep.

Gundam_Wing

I woke slowly, trying to rid my mind of the gray haze that had taken over it. For a moment, I panicked, unable to remember where I was or how I got there.

Then the memories floated back into recollection and I could barely suppress the urge to hit myself.

Now he knew! Duo would surely tell the others about my issues, I thought scathingly, and then what would they think?! It was bad enough that I had confessed my feelings, but now they knew the full extent of my mental problems.

Of course, if they sent me back to Rasid like I fully expected them to, I could easily get a hold of more blades… No matter how many Maguanacs there were, they couldn't cover every part of the mansion, and I had more ways to access my fortune than _anyone_ knew.

My musings spiraled downward from there, growing ever darker. I began to plan, exploring my options for actually succeeding in my suicide this time. I didn't want to chance getting caught and stopped again.

I ground my heels of my palms into my aching eyes. I hated this whole situation almost as much as I hated myself. I needed help and I knew it; I didn't _want_ to be thinking like this; but I couldn't stop. The pain in my chest started up again and I clutched desperately at my shirt.

My body curled into a fetal position and I gasped in air as fast as I could, beginning to hyperventilate. Someone else was in _so much __**pain**_, and I couldn't block it out… Couldn't stop it…

The door flew open and I vaguely recognized a pair of anxious, worried voices. Strong hands forced me to uncurl, and I protested loudly, lashing out as much as I could.

"Stop it, Quatre!" One of the voices shouted. "We can't help you if you don't let us!"

Another pair of hands -thin and long-fingered, calloused oddly- grasped my face roughly and turned it towards the voices. I slowly pried my eyes open, wanting to see the people trying to help me. Emotion flowed from those four hands and into my body: worry and sadness, anger and hope. They helped to drown out the pain and rage elsewhere in the building.

I finally managed to open my aching, watery eyes and blinked rapidly, blinded by the harsh commercial lighting. Duo was bent over my head, his face lined with worry. Heero was the one preventing me from curling up again.

I focused on his anxious purple eyes as I tried to slow my breathing and heart rate to relatively normal levels and lift my mental barriers. Eventually I relaxed, and they cautiously let go of me.

Duo perched next to me on the bed again, leaving Heero to retrieve the single chair and maneuver it close to us.

Swallowing nervously, I lifted my eyes to meet Heero's and promptly burst into tears. I had worked throughout the entire war to gain his respect, and now… I felt as if I had lost it. That, above all things, caused me immense distress.

If only, I thought despairingly, I had succeeded in killing myself. Then I wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of my failure… And Allah knew that I was going to Hell either way.

Duo placed his hand on my back and began rubbing in gentle circles. The soothing motion managed to calm me a second time and I allowed myself the small comfort of leaning against his side, sniffling pathetically.

"Oh, Quatre…" he sighed. He wrapped his arms around me tightly in an embrace and I tentatively laid my head on his chest. "We love you, Quatre, and we're going to help you get through this. You're not alone anymore…"


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hopefully, chapter seven will be out tonight as well! I'm anxious to get further into the story, given that the previous chapters were all written quite awhile ago… I believe that my style and composition has much improved and I want to show it off. (grins sheepishly) Always self-motivated… But we still have a loooooong way to go!

Warnings: An abrupt change in style, more angst, nervous!Quatre, and Duo's bad driving.

Chapter Seven

The next week was a flurry of medication and observations, nurses moving in and out of the room. The only constants were Duo, Heero, and the disks of flute music that never stopped playing. Slowly, I relearned how to control my empathy, locking up all but a trickle of power behind strong shields. The medication began to have some effect: my thoughts grew brighter by the day and my moods were progressively lighter. However, I wasn't out of the woods yet. Anything resembling a blade sparked urges in my blood, a burning addiction that offset everything we worked for. When the two week mark passed, Dr. Wood cleared me to leave the hospital.

I was quickly settled into Heero and Duo's spare room. He was all smiles despite the circumstances, and the glint of hope in his violet eyes inspired me to strive harder. Each day got a tiny bit easier to face, and I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Gundam_Wing

"Q-bean! Rise and shine!"

Duo's cheery call woke me just before he burst into "my" room, grinning like the devil. I groaned and hid my face in the pillow. This was something (for whatever reason) I had been missing. I could hear the smile in his voice as he yanked the duvet from my body and forcibly rolled me over.

"Q, you gotta get up! You're comin' to the garage with me, remember?"

Oh, I remembered. I was nervous as hell. I'd been in Duo and Heero's apartment for nigh on three months, and had yet to leave for anything more than an appointment with Dr. Woods. Today I would be going to work with Duo. Something hands-on and physical would be good for me, and I knew it. I worried about the tools.

Nevertheless, I dragged myself from the bed and slipped into torn jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt. No reason to show off all those scars… They were obvious and embarrassing. A pair of Duo's old sneakers and a thin jacket completed the ensemble.

(A/N: Here's where the writing style begins to change, dearies.)

I glanced in the mirror one last time, taking in the sight of my round face, scraggly blonde hair, and tired blue eyes. Despite my improved moods, I still couldn't see much of anything worth saving in myself. I was so much more trouble than anyone should have to deal with…

I shook off the beginnings of despair, determined to make this a good day. With a deep breath, I strengthened my resolve and headed out of the room to meet Duo in the kitchen.

When I got there, Heero was dressed in his Preventors uniform and reading the newspaper. A white china mug sat next to his left hand, wisps of steam from the tea escaping into the chilly air. Duo pranced about the room, humming absently as he slathered cream cheese generously on what appeared to be a toasted bagel. One was already halfway in his mouth. He too was wearing grease-stained jeans with the knees torn out and a black wife-beater. The usual black cap was perched crookedly on his head and his braid was tighter than he generally kept it, stray pieces tucked up with bobby pins.

He turned with the second bagel in his hand and, seeing me, grinned jovially. He passed it to me and moved on to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Duo," I said quietly. I did my best to choke down the light breakfast, much to the consternation of my nervously turning stomach.

Duo flapped one hand dismissively, focused on chugging his beloved caffeine. The thought made me smile as little. He'd always loved his coffee.

Appetites fulfilled, we stood to leave. Duo slung a jacket over his shoulder and stooped to kiss Heero goodbye while I waited by the door.

I averted my eyes to give them a little privacy, nerves again taking hold and making my stomach churn. A moment later Duo joined me and we made our way out of the apartment complex to his truck.

It was a dated old thing, seemingly falling apart at the hinges, but Duo kept it together well. It was his baby, one of the first projects he took on after the war.

He told me once that he had seen it sitting by the road everyday on his way to work and had finally called to ask about purchasing it. It needed more work than it was worth, but he saw something of himself in it and set to restoring its outdated parts. Two years later, when he finally finished, he painted it black with smatterings of stars to resemble the place he'd spent most of his life.

I clambered up into the cab and carefully latched the safety belt. As much as I trusted Duo, he liked to drive fast, and I wasn't so sure how safe the truck would be then.

He hopped into the driver's seat and gave the dashboard a fond pat, as if it were a dog. I sent him a puzzled look when he fastened his own safety belt and he chuckled.

"Heero'd have my ass if I didn't," he grinned. I blushed and he laughed harder before starting the engine.

Gundam_Wing

A/N: Well? I'd like to think that this is more satisfying… A little deeper. But maybe that's just me. Review, please, and lemme know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Chapter eight is here! I'm too wide awake to sleep, so you guys are getting much more than usual. Hope you're happy!

Warnings: the introduction of Hilde, Duo's stupidity, more nervous!Quatre, and my lack of understanding of mechanical work.

Chapter Eight

By the time we reached the garage, my palms were sweating and I felt sick again. I knew, deep down, how dangerous this situation could potentially become. If I made it through the day, it would be an enormous step in the right direction. On the other hand, I didn't yet know how well I could resist the urge to see myself bleed.

Duo came around the truck and opened my door, watching me with concern. I tried to smile a little, but the fear must have shown in my eyes. He climbed up and undid my safety belt himself, then took my hand and helped me hop down. On level ground again, he wrapped his arms around me in a reassuring hug.

"It's okay, Quat. I know this is gonna be hard, but I'll be here every step of the way. We'll get through this together, okay?" He pulled back and looked me in the eyes searchingly.

I swallowed thickly and nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. He kept one hand on the small of my back as we walked in, grounding me.

Duo worked in the garage part-time to help bring in more money. Of course, it also helped that he was very skilled with things of the mechanical variety; we all were, as we had to maintain our Gundams during the war. Duo, more than most, liked getting his hands dirty, and while it wasn't something I preferred, there was a kind of… Therapeutic aspect to it. Being able to fix something, make it work, just because you had the necessary skills and knowledge was invigorating in its own way.

I looked around the garage, taking in the couple of repairs already underway: one man was repairing an engine block, another replacing what appeared to be spark plugs, and there was a pair of booted feet sticking out from under a rusty old pickup.

It was those feet that Duo walked over to and kicked, snickering when a loud _thwack_ issued from under the vehicle, followed by an angry growl.

The person that rolled out to yell at Duo was the last thing I expected. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Lucrezia Noin, with short black hair that curled around her jaw and icy blue eyes. She was a little taller than me and sturdily built, with strong forearms. Crease was smudged under her eye and there was a quickly-bruising mark on her forehead.

"Duo Maxwell!" she shouted angrily, eyes blazing. She surged to her feet and lunged, punching him in the shoulder when he hit the ground. She hit him a couple more times before sitting back on his thighs with a huff.

She crossed her arms under her chest and gave him the evil eye.

"Honestly! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?! Now I'm going to have an ugly bruise!" She pointed sharply at it and I winced. It was already turning blue and purple and her fair skin wasn't doing anything to hide it.

Duo smirked. "Well, Hilde-babe, maybe it's just your true colors shining throu-"

_**Smack!**_

I flinched, vaguely horrified, as she began to stomp back to the pickup, cradling her hand. Duo sprang from the ground and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around so he could see her hand. He rubbed it a few times and then brought it to his face to kiss it.

Hilde yanked it from his grasp and turned away, but I could see that she was biting her lip to keep from laughing. With a grin, she laced her arm in his and let him guide her back in my direction.

I shifted from foot to foot nervously and tugged at my sleeves to make sure that they covered all the scars. My left arm had healed, that scar a little light than the rest due to the proper medical care. I was more than a little ashamed of all the marks that covered my limbs. They revealed a weakness that I needed to keep hidden, if only for the sake of my sanity.

Duo introduced us, moving to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hilde, this is Quatre. Remember, I told you that he's been stayin' with me an' Heero lately?"

She nodded and smiled warmly at me, holding out her hand for me to shake. "My name is Hilde Schebeiker. Duo's told me a lot of great things about you."

Hilde had a firm grip and a pleasant voice (when she wasn't yelling), as well as a dimple in one cheek. Her posture was relaxed, but spoke of some sort of military background.

"I met Hilde during the war," Duo said quietly. "We joined the garage together when we round out that we were moving to the same colony."

I looked closer, and noticed a few scars on her arms, probably from debris if she'd been a mobile suit pilot. A new respect for her grew within me and I let her see that in my face. Her smile became more serious for a moment, before she clapped her hands loudly, dissipating the tension.

"Alright! I'm assuming that Quatre needs something to work on, so follow me, 'kay?"

We followed Hilde across the garage to a fairly new car, which had its engine out on blocks.

"This one was brought in this morning. The whole engine needs rebuilt, there are flaws in the main mechanisms. You and Duo can work on this one together. He knows where the tools are." She patted me on the shoulder as she returned to the pickup. "Have fun!"

I shed my jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair and catching the wrench Duo tossed me. It was time to get distracted.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates… I hope some of you have had the patience to stick with me through my unofficial hiatus. Summer's coming up in a couple weeks, so I'm hoping I can get back in the groove with all my work, not just this one. Thanks again.

Chapter Nine

A couple of hours later found me rolling up my sleeves, hot and sweaty from the work. I turned back to get a socket wrench and noticed that one of the other mechanics was staring at me, screwdriver hanging limply from one hand.

I followed his line of sight back to my uncovered arms, riddled with raised white scars, and all the blood drained from my face. I scrambled frantically, yanking at my sleeves to unroll them and cover them up again.

All of a sudden, a pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me back against a distinctly male chest. Instincts kicked in and I shoved an elbow into his gut, following it up immediately by grinding my heel into his foot. Just as I was aiming for his groin next, a voice broke through the haze of panicked terror surrounding my mind.

"-re! Quatre, calm down!"

I realized that the man I was fighting was my best friend, and I crumpled into his arms. Tears streamed down my face to soak into his shirt as I sobbed.

I could vaguely hear Duo talking to Hilde above the noise I was making, but I ignored it. I trusted him to understand and deal with the situation accordingly, even if I was unable to do so.

A few moments later he shifted, his muscles tensing in a pattern I recognized as preparing to stand. I moved with him, my sobs having tapered down to the occasional hiccup. Now I was tired and upset and I wanted to be home again.

"Come on, Quat, let's get you out of here," Duo murmured. I nodded wearily in response and clung to his arms as we walked out of the garage, not trusting my balance.

Outside, he helped me lean against the side of the truck and opened the door for me. I avoided his eyes when he offered me a hand up, afraid that his opinion had changed, that he would be tired of the work and send me packing.

Gundam_Wing

The trip back to the apartment was silent and uncomfortable, the tension almost suffocating. I kept my eyes on my lap and listened to my thoughts. As it was, I nearly jumped out of my skin when Duo turned on the radio. The song that was playing was over a hundred years old, from the Before Colony era. My fidgeting hands stilled as the words penetrated my concentration.

A haunting piano melody began the song, followed by a breathy female mezzo-soprano.

"_I've been looking in the mirror for so long, that I've come to believe my soul's on the other side… All the little pieces falling, shatter… Shards of me, too sharp to put back together. _

_Too small to matter, but big enough to cut me into so many little pieces…_

_If I try to touch her- And I bleed… I bleed… And I breathe… I breathe, no more…"_

She trailed off into the instrumental interlude and I sucked in a breath, my entire body shaking as the song melded into my psyche. The words, the emotion, were a little too close to what I was hiding.

"_Take a breath, and I try to draw from my spirit's well, but yet again, you refuse to drink, like a stubborn child. _

_Lie to me, convince me that I've been sick forever; and all of this will make sense when I get better…" _

And honestly, that's what was happening, right? As much as the medications helped, the problems behind my depression were still there; drugs wouldn't make them magically disappear.

"_But I know the difference between myself and my reflection- _

_I just can't help but to wonder: Which of us do you love?"_

That's what it all came down to, in the end. Were they really looking at me and seeing **me**, or were they seeing what they wanted: a reflection of who I used to be? I was, by no means, the person I'd been during or even right after the war. So much had changed; I had drifted so far from the people I had once proudly proclaimed my best friends.

"_And I bleed; I bleed… And I breathe, I breathe… No more…"_

The last few lines of the song faded with the piano and Duo turned off the radio with a trembling hand. I blinked, suddenly aware that we were sitting in the half-empty garage connected to the apartment complex. Duo had his forehead resting on the steering wheel, his hands holding it in a white-knuckled grip.

Gundam_Wing

We stayed that way for several minutes and my attention focused, rather childishly, on his hands.

They were too large for his wrists, calloused and grease-stained, but I could see that his nails had been carefully cut so that there were no ragged edges. His fingers were long and slender, perfect for the artist I knew he was. The black grease ingrained in the ridges mingled with paint residue and I frowned, recalling somewhat absently that Heero had commented this morning about him staying up too late in the studio.

Duo sat up abruptly and killed the engine before hopping out, slamming his door. I scrambled frantically to follow, taken by surprise. I studied his body language as he walked; he seemed defensive, but- to my befuddlement- not even remotely in a way that suggested he was reverting to old instincts. Instead, his… emotional, mental, whatever… presence was retreating in on itself, like a shield around his psyche.

I wondered idly what Dr. Wood would have to say about that and frowned, noticing again the nearly tangible tension radiating from Duo.

There was a visible tick in his jaw and his eyes were narrowed. I observed lines between his brows that I didn't recognize; there had never really been that kind of obvious physical giveaway in him before. His breathing was slow and steady, obviously forced… It looked like he'd had plenty of practice.

And that was what hit me square in the face. I know that for a person who claims no self-worth, I'm very self-centered. Don't look at me like that. I just get so… I don't know. Isolated? I get so isolated within my thoughts that nothing else matters.

I could see, at that exact moment, where that particular personality quirk was going to be a **huge** pain in the ass.

My ruminations were interrupted when we arrived at the apartment. Just my luck, that we'd get there on the heels of what could possibly have been my biggest breakthrough in weeks.

Duo unlocked the door and disarmed the security system before stepping inside. I followed, feeling a bit like a lost puppy. They'd been directing my every action for so long… I shivered and rubbed my arms, suddenly cold, but I ignored it in favor of huddling in the single, squishy armchair in their living room.

It was a hideous thing, overstuffed and upholstered in an appalling pink-and-green floral print. However, it was obscenely comfortable, the extra stuffing somehow managing to be super-soft instead of firm. It was my favorite, which had absolutely nothing to do with the way it was able to swallow me when I needed to hide.

I told you not to look at me like that.

I watched nervously as Duo went about locking up behind me, checking the deadbolt and the alarm system in a way that I suspected was merely habit. That taken care of, he shucked his keys onto the counter and slipped over to perch on the edge of the coffee table instead of the sofa.

I swallowed, mouth dry in an instant. I was in for some serious shit; he only sat there when it was something really important. I think it grounded him somehow, being on a hard surface when it got like this. It probably had some connection to his past on L2 that he had yet to divulge to me, though that wasn't really surprising. I hadn't been living up to the title of "best friend" recently.

I rested my eyes on the wall directly behind him, unable to meet his eyes. My fingers worried at the ends of my sleeves, picking at loose threads, and I wondered how much would be unraveled by the end of the discussion.

Duo sighed at ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. His expression told me that he was as reluctant to begin this discussion as I was.

"Quatre…"

Even without looking at him, I knew that he was boring holes in my face. He cleared his throat and started again.

"Quatre…"

Suddenly my hands were in his and I was looking him in the eyes. To this day I have no recollection of how we reached that position.

"Is that really how you feel all the time? God, Quatre…" Duo let out a dry sob, squeezing my hands convulsively. "I had no idea… God!" He let my left hand go to wipe away the tears.

I'll tell you right now: I have never felt more like an asshole than I did in that moment.

And then the pain left his eyes and he was angry, practically vibrating with it.

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" he snapped. "Why didn't you ever talk to anyone before now?"

I was beginning to feel like the proverbial cornered animal and I jerked my hand away, sinking farther into the chair and preparing to snap back.

"When the _fuck_ did you ever ask?"

That shut him up real fast. He sat back and blinked, taken completely by surprise.

"Do you think it was easy, dealing with that by myself?" I clenched my fists in the rough denim covering my thighs. "You had enough problems of your own. Everyone did." I sighed and raked a hand through my hair. "It's over, Duo. We can't change what's already happened."

The anger deserted me as quickly as it had come and I let it go; I really didn't feel up to fighting. I just wanted to crawl in bed and never come out.

I must have mumbled some of the last part, because Duo was giving me that look again and his purple eyes were sad.

"Quat…"

It came out more like a sigh than a statement and he sat back, rubbing his temples wearily. "I suppose it has been a rather trying day…" He said, obviously reluctant to change the subject.

My stomach rumbled loudly and I blushed. Duo cracked a small grin and stood, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back.

"I s'pose I should feed you and let you rest…" He left it open-ended, a silent question, and sighed when I didn't respond. He shuffled into the kitchen and I waited until he was out of sight before smiling slightly to myself.

I can be a stubborn little bastard when I want to.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Special thanks to Valina, without whom I would be completely lost. This chapter is dedicated to her.

Chapter Ten

After a minute or so, I followed Duo, seating myself on one of their rickety chairs to watch. He had pulled out a pot and was currently rummaging in a cupboard for what I assumed would be a can of soup. He was humming faintly and his braid swung in accordance when he began tapping his foot in time with the melody.

Duo emerged a moment later, grinning triumphantly at a dusty can of… something. There was dust smudged on his nose and his bangs were slightly grey. It was an amusing sight, and when I snickered, his grin grew a bit wider. I realized that he had orchestrated it that way on purpose, but he had moved on when I opened my mouth to respond.

The soup was quickly opened and dumped unceremoniously into the pot and water added to dilute it. He turned the heat up on the stove and moved across the kitchen to turn on the state-of-the-art stereo system in the corner.

"_..Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?"_

He danced around the kitchen, lip-synching with the music, and I watched, not a little jealous.

Duo had always been full of a carefree, joyful grace to match his flexibility and strength. I watched it in action now as he swung his hips while stirring our lunch, probably without even realizing.

I've always been envious of that grace, from the moment I met him. It came so naturally to him. Me… I'd had to work very hard to achieve any semblance of grace, as I have been a klutz since birth. Brilliant tactician I may be, but don't put me on a balance beam unless it's an emergency.

I think that's one of the things that firs attracted me to Trowa: his grace and flexibility. And you know I'm not speaking of that in a carnal way. There's just something so… unreal, I suppose, about the way he moves.

Even when in his Gundam, he just moves like a predator. It's that dangerous, almost feline, gait of his that gets to me…

I shook my head vigorously, doing my best to get rid of those thoughts. My day had been bad enough already. I turned my attention back to Duo, who was now singing along at the top of his lungs while flipping cheese sandwiches on the griddle.

"Up where the mountains meet the heavens above! Out where the lightning splits the sea! I could swear that there's someone somewhere watching me!"

In the other room, the door was unlocked and the alarm system disarmed. I watched as Heero stepped into the apartment set his work pack neatly next to his shoes by the door. An amused quirk of a smile overcame his face as he padded silently into the kitchen, stealing up behind Duo, who was completely oblivious.

"I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night!" Duo sang.

Well, he sang until Heero wrapped an arm around his waist and scared the crap out of him.

"GAH!" He jumped, whirling around to defend himself and stopping mid-motion at the look on his lover's face. "Hee-chan?"

The smile became a full-out grin and Heero bent Duo over his arm and said, "You need a hero, right?"

It was possibly the cheesiest line I had ever heard, and Duo laughed out loud, pulling Heero down into a passionate kiss. Again, I looked away, blushing.

Heero let him up and he laughed, turning back to the stove and scooping the sandwiches onto a plate. He handed the plate to Heero and shooed him towards me. I stood and gathered spoons and napkins to set the small table, careful to avoid Heero's questioning gaze.

Duo ladled the soup- which turned out to be vegetable- into bowls and passed them around before sitting next to Heero. I took the seat across from them, murmured, "Itadikimasu," when they did, and dug in. I was grateful for the distraction, as it allowed me to focus on the food instead of the conversation taking place in front of me.

In reality, I couldn't tell you anything about the taste of the soup or the sandwiches, though I'm sure they were delicious. I was completely absorbed in schooling my expression so that I at least appeared content.

I ate mechanically, thoughts swirling chaotically inside my head. How could I keep Duo from asking again? I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold him off forever, but I wasn't ready to talk about it. Despite the months of therapy and medication, it was still too raw and painful, too fresh a wound.

I glanced up at Duo and Heero. Their chairs had shifted closer, and from the way Duo was fidgeting, there was a hand touching him beneath the table. I excused myself, blushing from my ears down to my collar. Honestly, they just couldn't keep their hands to themselves!

My dishes clattered loudly as I dropped them in the sink and hurried down the hall. The blood didn't begin to drain from my face until I was in the guest bedroom with the door shut behind me.

I leaned against it and slid to the floor, wrapping my skinny arms around my knees and hugging them to my chest. The sounds of clinking dishware faded as their voices grew louder, fueled by time and passion. They moved into their bedroom and the moaning gained volume and frequency.

Shaking badly, I forced myself to stand and stumble to my laptop on the desk across the room. I typed a search query into an open internet window. It turned up a music file domain and I opened it, desperate for something to drown them out.

I scrolled through and found a playlist that looked halfway decent. However, since I know almost nothing about music that isn't classical, don't take my word for it.

Loud guitar notes filled the room and I turned up the volume, listening carefully as an angry male voice sang the words.

"_Pain, without love; Pain, I can't get enough. Pain, I like it rough, 'cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all…"_

The introduction was full of heavy guitars and pounding drum beats, rolling straight into a verse with words that swelled up to encompass everything around me. I let them roll through my mind and the air became heavy with the emotions from the other bedroom and the song. They mixed and clashed, pressing down on me and making me nauseous.

"_You're sick of feeling numb; well, you're not the only one. I'll take you by the hand and I'll show you a world that you can understand. _

_This life is filled with hurt. When happiness doesn't work, trust me and take my hand. When the lights go out, you will understand…"_

A need that I'd been ignoring for three months welled up inside of me and I gasped for breath, fisting the thin material of my shirt over my heart. The pressure on my chest made me see spots; there obviously wasn't enough oxygen reaching my brain.

In that moment, I made a decision I would regret for a very, very long time. I wrenched the door open and stumbled to the kitchen. Angry music spilled from the room and into the hall, muffling the sounds of the headboard hitting the wall and the creaking of bed springs.

I dug through the silverware drawer until I found a knife that was in the back, out of sight and covered with dust. Hopefully it wouldn't be missed. Smiling absently to myself, I went back to the guest room.

As much as I wanted to just set the blade to my skin, I knew that I had to prepare first. I made a quick trip to the bathroom, wetting a rag and filling a small bowl with water for cleaning up the blood.

I let the music fill me up, urging on the pounding in my head, the way my pulse thumped to the vibrations of the bass. I was light-headed with anticipation; everything seemed to fade from my vision except for the gleam of light on the blade clutched in my fist.

"_Pain, without love! Pain, I can't get enough! Pain, I like it rough, 'cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all…"_

The first bite of steel on skin nearly made me moan. It had been too long since I last granted myself relief. I saw nothing but that flow of red over my flesh, heard nothing but the music and my blood pounding in my ears.

I savored the sight of that incision, raw and open and dripping my life-blood onto the floorboards. It resembled my heart in that way… Open and full of pain. Some old, pre-colony philosopher said once that the most beautiful hearts are the ones with the most scars. I'm not inclined to believe that; the scars just make us more jaded and world-weary than the rest.

When the bleeding slowed and eventually stopped, I immediately felt a pang of loss. I moved the blade up my arm an inch or so, searching for a spot that wasn't already scarred. A change in song on the playlist accompanied my next cut, the haunting orchestra backing a voice that seemed to echo on the air, full and emotional.

The knife fell from nerveless fingers as the words raced from my ears to my brain. Images of my long-term unrequited love swelled in my vision, drowning out my thoughts.

"_The child without a name grew up to be the hand- To watch you, to shield you, or kill on demand. The choice he'd made he could not comprehend; his blood a grim secret they had to command…"_

I try my hardest not to think of him, and most of the time it works. I know I should have moved on by then- four years is a long time to love someone, especially when they don't return it. But this hadn't been, and never would be, a simple crush. Of course it started out that way- all love does, right?

From the first moment I saw him, standing in the open hatch of Heavyarms with his arms raised in surrender, I knew he was special. He was one of the only people whose emotions I couldn't sense clearly with just a glance. I actually have to try to find his feelings, hidden carefully under layers of thoughts and memories. Sometimes I even have to be touching him for it to work.

"_He's torn between his honor and the true love of his life. He prayed for both but was denied…"_

That line… I can't imagine who Trowa would consider his true love.

Well… That's a lie. It's probably Cathy, even though he regards her as a sister. As much as I wish I was his "true love", I most definitely am not.

I don't deserve it. I want it so badly, I have for so many years… But I can't have it, don't deserve it, and never will. And Trowa surely doesn't deserve all my baggage.

"_So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed. Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind? So many years have passed; who are the noble and the wise? _

_Will all our sins be justified?"_

I shook myself from my stupor and began cleaning up. No matter what I was feeling, I couldn't afford to get caught in the act.

I allowed the knife to clatter into the bowl of water after I picked it up, knowing that the loud music masked the sound rather efficiently. Then I grasped the damp rag and gently cleaned the drying blood from my arm, rinsed it and scrubbed it from the floor as well.

When I was satisfied that all the evidence was gone, I stowed the knife in a desk drawer and crept to the tiny bathroom. After locking the door, I waited a few tense moments, then leaned over and flushed the toilet. That would give me a credible excuse to run water, which I did. I rinsed the bowl and rag thoroughly and dumped the damp rag into the hamper of dirty clothes. The bowl I added stealthily to the dishwasher in the kitchen, where I grabbed a soda can and took it back to the guest bedroom I occupied.

All of this I accomplished in less than ten minutes. With a self-deprecating smile, I switched off the music and climbed into the small daybed to await sleep.

A/N: I don't own any of the songs used in this chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Here's Chapter Eleven! I'm sorry it's taken so long, but I'm stuck in my house for break, and I can only manage to write after everyone else has gone to bed. That said, I managed this chapter in one night, which is definitely a record for me. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: This chapter was written under the combined influences of David Bowie, Lady Gaga, Imogen Heap, and The Cranberries. I am not responsible for any content that seems questionably sane.

Chapter Eleven

I avoided spending excessive amounts of time with Heero and Duo for the remainder of the week. Heero had not seemed overly suspicious, but Duo had been concerned. It took considerable effort on my part to avoid his insistent queries, mostly because I could feel the sincerity in his actions.

But however bad I felt about my deception, I had once again succumbed to my addiction and had no wish to give it up again. Thankfully, due to my medications and the many distractions of living with an established couple- especially a couple made up of former Gundam pilots- I no longer felt suicidal, and I was only cutting every couple of days. The urge hadn't faded enough that I could ignore it completely, but its grip on me had loosened considerably.

Somewhere in that time I managed to fall into some sort of routine. I woke early with Heero and Duo and ate breakfast, then showered after they left for work. I spent my days alternately reading or watching what educational programs I could find on television. We spent dinner and sometimes evenings together in a semi-relaxed fashion, tempered only by my reluctance to communicate.

It was casual and indulgent in a way I'd never experience before, not even in my youth. For the first time in almost twenty years, I had no responsibilities, no pressing obligations, nothing to do but enjoy myself. At times I did indeed enjoy it, but mostly it seemed like wasted time to me. Why watch anything on television when one could be working to improve equality in company policy or helping prevent the spread of crime in the colonies?

In any case, the following Monday found me seated in my favorite chair, bundled in a sweater against England's January cold and scrolling through a list of pre-Colony fantasy novels on a datapad. They were and are my one true indulgence, a guilty pleasure my father and sisters had always mocked. I was feeling oddly nostalgic that morning, and the disk of Trowa's flute recordings was playing quietly in the background, for once not inciting fits of tears or self-pity.

The cool temperature was a wonderful reminder that I was no longer in the colonies, where climate is carefully regulated and I'd never really had the occasion to wear a sweater. At the moment, I had on a soft, mock-turtleneck and a nice ribbed v-neck sweater in a shade Duo had emphatically described as "aubergine"- in other words, "dark purple". It was understated enough that wearing it in public wouldn't advertise my sexuality to the known world, and it was ridiculously comfortable, so I had no complaints. Paired with some of Duo's well broken-in jeans, I glanced at a few titles and rejected them, smiling absently as the smooth, rolling notes of Trowa's flute filled my ears. It was about eleven-thirty, and the last thing I expected was for a key to turn in the lock and the door to open.

I was out of my seat in an instant, datapad abandoned on the coffee table. The odds were exceedingly low that it was someone other than Duo or Heero, given that whoever it was had a key, but I was still unsettled. There were no weapons within easy reach, and I had fallen distressingly out of practice with hand-to-hand. You never really forget things like that after having used them so often, but the revelation wasn't a happy one.

You can probably imagine my shock when WuFei stumbled through the door and toed off his shoes with a groan. He began to fumble- in an appallingly graceful way- with the zipper on his Preventer-issue jacket and froze mid-motion when he registered the sound of the music.

His head jerked up and his gun was aimed, safety off, at my chest before I could get even one word out of my mouth. It took a moment- a long and admittedly terrifying moment – before I saw recognition in his black eyes.

WuFei holstered his gun with a muffled curse and I drifted silently to the other side of the room to turn off the music.

When I returned my attention to him, he was watching me guardedly, his features lined with exhaustion. It was clear to me that he was very familiar with the flat and had intended to, for lack of a better word, _crash_, probably in the guest bedroom that I occupied. The thought that he hadn't known, or had forgotten, my presence here made me shift uncomfortably.

Almost unconsciously, I tugged at my sleeves until they covered my hands, attempting to ensure that none of my scars were visible. I was momentarily grateful for the chilly weather and thought a brief prayer to Allah before I realized that WuFei was about to speak.

"Why are you here, Winner? I do not recall Maxwell or Yuy mentioning a visit."

The words only made me more nervous, and I knew that the tension in my shoulders was increasingly apparent to him. I cleared my throat hesitantly and kept my gaze resolutely on the wall behind him, as I was wont to do.

"There was an… incident… which resulted in my temporary relocation to their place of residence. They would not have spoken of it, as it was rather sudden and I have no desire to advertise my presence."

Rather eloquent, coming from a jittery, skittish suicide-atemptee, eh?

The look of irritation he leveled at me set me even more on edge, though I'm sure I deserved it.

"What kind of _incident_, Winner?"

I swallowed thickly and cast an involuntary glance at my wrists before responding.

"Um… The personal kind?"

If looks could kill…

"Again, _what kind of incident_, **Winner**?" He demanded sharply, something close to arrogance coloring his tone.

I bristled and responded with humiliated anger, the words sour on my tongue even before they left my mouth.

"The kind of incident you don't deserve to know about, **Chang**!" I bit out, and immediately regretted it.

I could feel the blood drain from my face even as it flooded his in an indignant blush. I took a step back and apologies spilled from my throat in a litany of half-finished words and partially mangled syllables.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I wasn't- um, that wa-"

"Winner." He said loudly, cutting me off.

My jaw slammed shut with a crack that was nearly audible and we both winced. I lowered my eyes to the floor, thoroughly embarrassed. His next statement threw me off completely.

"Winner. Do not apologize. I… probably deserved that."

I admit it: I gaped like a fish.

He colored even further and I stopped myself, my own face heating up. I had no adequate response to that remark, so I did what every young man does in an awkward situation- I changed the subject.

"So, why are you here? If you don't mind me asking."

WuFei squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and when he opened them, he was much more composed.

"While I am usually stationed in the Colonies, my most recent mission brought me to Europe, England in particular. Maxwell and Yuy had assured me that if that were ever the case, I would be welcome to utilize their guest room in order to rest." He took a deep breath and examined my face, while I continued staring past him to the wall.

"I believe it is safe to assume that you are occupying that guest room."

I nodded slowly and thought for a bit before answering the question he hadn't asked.

"I am. But you can use it for however long you're here- you obviously need the bed much more than I do. Just give me a minute to get my things."

He gave me a slightly skeptical look, which I ignored. It was the work of a moment to clear the bedroom of my possessions, and he nodded gratefully as he passed me in the hall on his way into the room. The door shut and the lock clicked and suddenly I felt very, very drained.

With a fatigued sigh, I dropped my stuff on the hideous armchair and stretched out on the loveseat for a much-needed nap.


End file.
